


Gros Bon Ange

by Geist



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Clothed Sex, F/F, French, Implied Oral, Magic, Nipple Play, Pirates, Piratestuck, Remote Pleasure, Sensation Play, Sex Magic, Tears, Touching, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A high-class seamstress and a piratical Vodou sorceress seem like unlikely allies, but Kanaya hears things that are useful for a brigand to know, and Rose acquires things that are useful for a tailor to have. They have an understanding. One that comes with fringe benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gros Bon Ange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).



The Gutted Shark: a charming name for an equally charming taverna. Kanaya wrinkled her nose. The place smelled like its namesake, and she tried to work out whether the greatest contributor to its unique aroma was the food, the noisome and frankly horrifying head, or its patrons. Thinking better of the exercise, she turned her attention to her drink. She'd rather not have drunk anything, but the tattooed and scowling barkeep had definite views on people who sat at his tables without crossing his palm with coin, so she'd opted for a small glass of red wine on the basis that the alcohol would kill off anything nasty clinging to the sides of the murky glass.

Kanaya wished she could have conducted her business somewhere, anywhere else, but her partner insisted on this foul pub, and when one dealt with a ruthless pirate queen who was not so much rumoured as confirmed to dabble in dark magic, one did not argue. Nevertheless, she was uneasy. She'd been kidnapped by pirates before, and had taken care to avoid it a second time. She wore her least elegant dress, even though it practically killed her to do so, and left her more expensive jewelery at home. Despite that, at least few of the ruffians casually glancing in her direction were definitely doing the cost/benefit analysis of bundling her up and carrying her off to their ships. She sipped her wine and tried not to make eye contact.

A few moments later, her worries became moot. Her partner stepped through the door, and when her partner stepped, people watched. Rose Lalonde: Terror of the Isles, the Vodou Mistress, Favoured of the Loa and all round person to not fuck with. It was said she'd called up a storm to destroy an armada commissioned to hunt her down, and that she'd summoned Baron Kriminel into the material world to drag the infamous Blackblood Jack kicking and screaming to his fate in the afterlife.

She was strikingly beautiful too, so Kanaya thought, and most others seemed to agree with her. Humans and trolls gazed longingly as Rose sashayed across the room, weaving her tall, lithe figure between knots of drinkers. She swept right past the bar, drawing absolutely no protest from the bartender, paused to sweep a strand of platinum hair (and oh, how it contrasted so wonderfully with her black skin) and sat down opposite to Kanaya. 

"Bonjour, mon amie," Rose purred. "How lovely to see you again. How goes the seamstressing?"

"Rather well, as it happens. There are some fascinating new fashions sweeping across the islands." Kanaya glanced at Rose's feather hair ornament, her gold hoop earrings and her multitude of bone and bead necklaces. "Though I see you retain your own unique sense of style." 

Rose laughed a throaty laugh. "That I do, pretty Maryam. Your soft silks and velvets don't stand up so well to Agwe's salt."

" Of course. And how is your... line of work?"

"Brigandage, privateering and bokoring for hire?" Rose said it as casually as if she was discussing the weather, and shrugged. "It's been worse. But of course, we're here to discuss something of benefit to both our careers, non? And I would prefer somewhere more private to do so."

They repaired to an upstairs bedroom, a far more cleanly and altogether pleasant place than the bar, primarily by virtue of being used for little more than backroom deals like Rose and Kanaya's. Kanaya sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, while Rose took an armchair that was leaking stuffing through numerous rips and gashes. She slowly crossed one leg over the other, and Kanaya bit down so hard on her lip she almost sunk a fang into it.

"And so to business," Rose said. "I have in the hold of my ship a cargo of very fine silks, acquired through the diligent efforts of my loyal employees and a few entrepreneurial associates. Very rare. Most valuable."

"I am in need of new materials, it's true," Kanaya couldn't keep a slight smile off her face. This was a game they'd played a few times now, and they both enjoyed it.

"And you go to all the nice parties, oui, with the silverware laid out just so, and refined chitchat flowing back and forth over you? Ever tempted to slip a few spoons into your pocket before you leave?"

"I can't say I ever have, no," she said primly. "You don't make dresses, and I don't..." 

Rose laughed again. "What a pity. You would make a great pirate, darling, I'm sure of it. You have a ruthless streak in you, otherwise why would you even be talking to one such as me?" 

"There are other compensations."

"No doubt. Now tell me, what do you hear at these parties of yours?"

Kanaya brightened. She never missed a chance to relay gossip, even to an audience who didn't want to hear it. "Well, the Dowager Duchess of Saltshome is marrying the Baron de la Soul. An excellent alliance for both their houses, so I hear, and the Baron really is a wonderful man. I'm so happy for the Duchess." 

Rose stifled a yawn. "Fascinant. Go on."

"And Lord Fawsworth has caused scandal by eloping with a young troll commoner - a red-blood of all things. It's simply astounding."

"Don't underestimate les sangs-rouges, they can be tricky. I've crossed paths with a certain red-blood captain a few times, now."

"You know me, I have no blood prejudice. I wish them all the best."

"Bien. And anything else?"

"Ah, young Mlle. Fontain came out the other-"

Rose held up a hand. "Before you continue, perhaps you'd like to see a little something I made." She reached into a pocket and fished out a crude, fertility idol figure of a female troll. It appeared to be made out of brown sackcloth and had the fangs of some animal as horns. 

"Is that...?" Kanaya asked. 

"It's a poppet, my poppet." Rose held the doll up to the light, turning it this way and that. "And it's not yet complete." She stuffed it back into her pocket, stood up and crossed over to Kanaya in two swift strides. Steel flashed in front of Kanaya's eyes and was gone again, leaving her shocked and trembling. Rose resheathed her dagger and examined a clump of of black strands between her fingers. Kanaya peered at them. Her hair?

Rose went back to the armchair, took out the doll and her dagger again and sliced open the doll's back. Kanaya gulped. "Rose, if I've offended you in some way..."

"Shh, ma chérie. When in all of our dealings have I ever hurt you?"

Never. Quite the opposite, in fact. Kanaya looked back on some of their previous negotiations with considerable fondness. She watched as Rose raised the lock of her hair to her lips and kissed it. 

"Such pretty hair. I must keep some for a locket." She pushed the lock into the doll's back, mingling it with the rest of the stuffing, then took out a needle and thread and deftly sewed up the incision she'd made. Stowing that away, she reached for her belt again, going for a much thinner holster dangling next to her dagger. Out of it she drew a long needle, carved to a blunt point and engraved with impossibly intricate scrimshaw. It was made of ivory, or something white at least. Kanaya opted not to speculate.

"Vodou is all about intent," Rose said, and brushed the needle across the place where the doll's lips would have been if it had a face.

Kanaya reeled back, gasping, her lips tingling. It felt like she'd been kissed by a fire, one that merely warmed and then slipped under the skin to spread out from the point of entry. Rose traced her needle up the doll's left arm, round its shoulders and down its right. The warmth travelled through Kanaya, following the needle's exact path. Her arms trembled, and she only realised how hard she'd been gripping the edge of the bed when they relaxed of their own accord.

The needle weaved its way down the doll's back. Kanaya treated herself to the services of masseuses once in a while, and none of them compared to what Rose was doing to her. Her spine was melting, she was sure, and as though to prove it she went 'gngg' and flopped backwards, legs hanging over the edge of the bed in the most undignified way. 

Kanaya stared up at the ceiling. The room seemed to be getting darker, hotter, smaller, more humid and oppressive in some ill defined way. An invisible crowd was filling the room, and if she listened carefully she could hear the faintest of susurusses: voices whispering in no human or trollish language she knew. She couldn't see Rose or the doll any more, but she felt the needle, felt it flick between her breasts and across her stomach to stop just a few centimetres above her mound. She arched her back, keening, then the needle on her belly pressed her back down like a physical weight.

Rose swirled slow, lazy spirals up the doll/Kanaya's torso. When she reached Kanaya's breasts she swirled a figure of eight around them, following the swell of one, down through Kanaya's cleavage, up round the other. Kanaya groaned, desperate for the sensation to move inward. Her nipples strained under her bra, stiffening into peaks visible through her blouse at the merest thought of the needle playing over them.

The heat vanished and returned a moment later as a line bisecting Kanaya's nipples. She gasped, and levered herself up to see Rose holding the needle lengthways across the doll's bosom. The warmth suffused her breasts and transmuted into an almost physical feeling, such that she was surprised to not see them swelling with it. She held her head up just long enough to see Rose give her a smile, then she flopped back down again, too overwhelmed to watch any more.

Ever so slowly, Rose started to roll the needle up and down, up and down, each movement covering a wider swathe of Kanaya's bust. Every pass over her nipples made her shudder in delight, and the thrilling tension filling up her chest made her wonder if she was actually going to come from the treatment. Her toes curled and she squeezed her legs together, finding that her thighs slipped and slithered over each other. Gods, she was dripping. Her skirt would be ruined, to say nothing of her panties. And Rose hadn't even touched her there yet.

The needle's caress vanished from her chest and Kanaya whimpered out loud. She heard Rose chuckle. "Patience, chérie. Anticipation is the best part." As if to illustrate she lightly touched a spot just below Kanaya's chest, then another a little way beneath that, then another, and so on, extending the line out until it was almost exactly where Kanaya wanted it to be. With her eyes shut tight, she silently begged for Rose to mark one more dot, certain the needle must have been hovering over her most secret place.

The needle didn't fall, though, and Kanaya had to suppress a scream of frustration when its ghostly tip reappeared on her big toe. "Ce petit cochon est allé au marché," sang Rose, and the needle moved to Kanaya's next toe. "Ce petit cochon à la maison est resté." She finished the chant, leaving Kanaya with scrunched up toes and an ambivalent attitude towards nursery rhymes, then spiralled the needle up Kanaya's leg, lingering on her calf, the back of her knee, her inner thigh...

"Please, please," Kanaya said, panting out the words.

"Please?"

"Please touch my nook."

"I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough." Rose slid the needle between the doll's legs and drew it back like the bow of a violin.

A scream exploded in Kanaya's lungs and escaped her mouth. Down in the bar, the patrons paid close attention to their drinks and considered the dark rumours surrounding the Vodou Mistress and her interrogation techniques. A crackling storm of coloured lights filled Kanaya's vision, each one an expression of the pleasure assailing her.

The thrill faded, and Kanaya opened her eyes to see Rose looming over her, needle poised above the crux of the doll's thighs. Kanaya fixed her gaze on its point, desperately willing it to fall. Rose twitched it, and Kanaya thrust her hips up, moaning. But Rose had only feinted, and a green flush filled Kanaya's cheeks as she realised how wanton she must have seemed.

"Someone received a letter of marque from the Crown this month," Rose said. "Who?"

"S-Sir Harry Moran!"

"Ah." The needle dipped and Kanaya was enraptured, carried off, rendered a helpless captive by her own pliable, treacherous body. She bucked and writhed, her hips squeezed together like a vice until the ecstasy faded and Rose asked her next question.

"Whose fleet sails without flag or banner?"

"Quatos Mondal! Please-"

"For why?"

"Smuggling. Hah-he's a smuggler."

Intolerable delight, muscles seized, mind transfixed, back arched. Agonising fade.

"The new capitaine of Fort Highpoint?"

"Hugh d'Armagnac!"

Pleasure, question, answer, pleasure, question, answer, pleasure - over and over until Kanaya was a quivering wreck, so utterly discombobulated by her pirate queen's sweet cruelty that actual tears leaked from her eyes, carving black trails of expensive mascara down her face.

"Shh, ma petite, shh." Rose ran a soothing hand through Kanaya's hair. "This has been quite the experience for you, has it not? But you have done very well, and now you may have your reward." She twirled the needle between her fingers and brought it up between the doll's legs, tearing through the sackcloth and thrusting deep into its stuffed innards.

The bar's patrons assumed that Rose had finished off her unfortunate victim. They were half right. Kanaya's howl echoed off the roof and walls of the room, sending swirling ripples through the clustered shadows. The chorus of whispers rose again, joining her in her exultation. Her inner walls contracted around an intruder that wasn't there, twitching and trembling. The phantom inside her pushed in so deep, far deeper than anything physical could safely have done, touching places that had never been touched. She thrashed on the bed, the covers scrunched in her hands. Rose yanked the needle out. Kanaya uttered one final shriek and fell still, utterly paralysed by the force of her climax.

Later, Rose sat on the armchair with Kanaya on her knee, totally oblivious to the wet spot soaking into her skirt. Stroking Kanaya's hair, she said "You always have the most interesting bits of gossip, my little seamstress. What a pity I always have to work so hard to drag the good stuff out of you."

"It would hardly be any fun if I told you everything straight away, would it?"

"Indeed not. And how did you like my new little toy?"

"It was like nothing I've ever felt before. I thought voodoo dolls were supposed to be for hurting people."

"As I say, it's all about intent." She scrutinised the doll. "I think I may keep this. Imagine how fun it will be for me, giving it a little poke every so often, imagining you at one of your fancy parties, making noises like you did on that bed."

"That might somewhat impede my ability to gather gossip for you and your...co-workers."

Rose shrugged. "I'm sure the effect will be less when I'm further away."

Kanaya took hold of the doll, turning it gently in her hands. She prodded it's stomach and frowned. "I don't feel anything."

"You don't have the favour of the loa."

"Hmm. It's rather crude. These horns - I have some nice amber stones that would look good carved." She ran her fingers over the sackcloth. "Foul material, as well. Perhaps if you're intent on using this to torment me, you could remake it. Maybe keep a piece of my payment for it."

"Why, Mademoiselle Maryam. Anyone would think you're vain. I'll need some more hair, if you insist on a pretty doll."

"Go ahead." It would mean a visit to the salon to repair the damage, but she sat patiently while Rose sliced off a lock, and then another.

"One for that locket," Rose explained.

"How sweet."

"Maintenant, chérie, my ship awaits. My crew are restless and we have your payment to offload, minus one sheet as discussed." She gently pushed Kanaya off her lap and went to stand. Kanaya pushed her back down, and Rose smiled at the boldness of the gesture. There were so few people who even dared to touch her.

"It seems to me," Kanaya said, kneeling down before Rose, "that the creation of a powerful magical artifact is worth far more than a few scraps of society chatter."

"I see your point." Rose curled a hand around Kanaya's left horn and pulled her in, pulling up her skirt with her free hand. "The ship can wait. Make your payment."

"With pleasure."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Syb la Tortue's (syblatortue.tumblr.com) Piratestuck universe. I've taken a few liberties with her setting. I hope she doesn't mind!
> 
> Follow me at geistygeist.tumblr.com for more stories.


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